Comfort
by Subtle Shenanigans
Summary: Undyne's noticed Sans' attachment to his jacket, while contemplating her growing friendships. Sequel to Space, part 2 of The Sans Conundum. UNBETA'D. R & R please.


**A/N: Someone mentioned a sequel to** _ **Space**_ **and although I had been playing around with the idea, I couldn't resist then.**

 **So here's another one, this time on the subject of Sans' jacket.**

 **All of these will be from Undyne's POV and we won't get inside Sans' head at all. Part of it being even I'm not sure if Sans is insecure or has other issues. I want to leave it open. Plus Undyne is a challenge to write for.**

 **And keep in mind this is from Undyne's POV; I myself am very introverted and anti-social. But it is bad to be** _ **too**_ **anti-social. Alphys you need to hang with peeps more even if you don't want to.**

 **DISCLAIMER:** **Nahhhhhhhh. Too awesome for me to own. Nor do I own any movies I mention.**

* * *

 _Comfort_

* * *

Ever since the shoulder-touching debacle last week, Undyne had been determined to both figure out Sans _and_ try not to make him uncomfortable.

Which was an exceedingly hard feat.

It meant more hanging out with Sans (which wasn't a problem; she'd been meaning to get the nerd to chill with her and Papyrus for awhile now, and eventually Alphys. She's still have her special days with _just_ Paps, but she honestly never really had a group of close friends before and now … well, she wanted one.)

But hanging out meant being with him in person, and Undyne had always been more physical with others. Noogies, Fist bumps, High fives, Shoulder pats, half-hugs, full-hugs . . .

They were all off the table, at least in respect to Sans.

Because she _didn't_ want to make the shorter skeleton uncomfortable. Plus, Papyrus was surely keeping an eye socket on her to make sure she didn't upset his brother after last week.

 _Man_ , she never fathomed that Sans could be so _touchy_.

. . . Dangit. Sans was rubbing off on her, wasn't he? Stupid puns.

So she opted to observing other things about him. Maybe then she would be able to piece together what sort of monster he was; be able to understand him better. She didn't want to know all his secrets - _and dang did he have a lot, the infuriating little_ -

She just wanted him to be comfortable around his friends. And not just her, but Alphys too, when she was pulled out of her severely anti-social state. Sans himself was _too_ closed off; it couldn't be good for him to deal with that.

Undyne clamped down the urge to noogie some sense into him, fists clenched and grin tight. She couldn't be too . . . _enthusiastic_ about this. She'd have to start with just inviting him over more.

. . . This was going to be hard.

* * *

If there was one thing Undyne definitely picked up on over the course of the month, is that Sans sure loved his jacket.

It didn't matter where they went or what they did; whether hanging in Snowdin, playing in the rivers and waters of Waterfall, or even, _Ugh_ , meeting up in Hotland to visit Alphys or go to the MTT Resort, Sans was _always_ wearing his blue jacket.

He did change out of his other clothes; she could see that his shirts were all varying shades of white and she even saw him once wearing one that could be considered pale gray, and another time one that was cream. He definitely owned a few different pairs of shorts, some slightly different materials and some with two stripes or no stripes on each leg. He altered between his pink slippers and a pair of black and white tennis shoes.

But his jacket never changed.

She squinted her eye fiercely at it one evening, trying to figure out why he was so attached to it. It wasn't that impressive: it was a dull, faded color, little holes from aged threads coming undone, the soft inner lining of the hood balling up and losing its softness from multiple washes. It was a zippered jacket with a hood, and two diagonally open pockets where Sans tended to keep his mittened hands.

(. . . _What the hell was with the mittens, anyways?)_

Sans, perceptive as always, merely shifted slightly, eyelights flicking to her. "Got a problem, Undies? You look like you've got a _bone_ to pick with me." His grin became that insufferable one that he flashed after making a pun.

Undyne felt a vein throb at the annoying nickname, but she ignored it. She bluntly asked, "What's with your jacket?"

She . . . really needed to work on her tact.

He blinked once, slowly, more in a show of honest confusion than need to blink. "My jacket?"

She gestured to his jacket on him, struggling to find words. If Paps was here, he'd surely answer _for_ Sans, but he had run out to get more tomatoes for their spaghetti sauce.

"You never take that thing off! I've seen you wearing it in _Hotland_ , for Asgore's Sake! I mean don't get me wrong; Papyrus never takes off his battle body, but he's _Papyrus_! It's just weird is all."

Undyne thought she saw a twinge of _something_ and regretted her wording. Strange would have been better than weird, she swiftly concluded, because strange alluded more to mysterious whereas weird … didn't.

Whatever that twinge had meant was quickly locked away, as Sans merely shrugged languidly. "Eh, just like it, 'S'all."

Undyne raised a dubious eyeridge at that, and she thought Sans' expression bordered _nervous_ , but before she could ask anything further, Papyrus burst through the door screaming at the top of his (metaphorical) lungs, " _SPAGHETTI TIME!_ "

* * *

It was Wednesday, meaning, of course, that it was movie night.

After a hearty … _meal_ , of, uh, 'spaghetti', the trio of friends found themselves on the shabby black couch Undyne had found in the dumps some months ago, watching some old VHS called ' _Willy Wonka And The Chocolate Factory._ '

Somehow, Undyne got squished between the two Skeleton brothers (usually Papyrus would take the middle, cuddling up to either Sans or Undyne). It wasn't that bad, for her, but it was a tight fit - everyone's legs and sides pressed against one another. It was comfortable, by Undyne's standards.

Not so much by Sans' it would seem. It wasn't hard to notice how he tensed up at the contact; kept himself stiff in a way that Undyne figures wasn't very comfortable. But he didn't seem _uncomfortable_ with how he sat, more that he was uncomfortable with the physical contact.

 _Geez_ , what was with that?

… Although, her mind suddenly added up why Sans was so good at dodging, as Papyrus said.

She gave a minimal shrug, letting her mind drift back to Papyrus' chattering and the movie playing.

Although enthralled by the strange, colorful adventures on-screen - and Papyrus' just as colorful interjections and thoughts - she couldn't help but notice that Sans eventually eased up, even if it was just a little bit. His words a little less stiff.

Even as he eased up, he also seemed to loosen a little, and only _then_ did Undyne realize how tightly he had curled in on himself; how much he had burrowed and clung to the jacket he _always_ wore.

And she couldn't help but grin to herself, yellow eye wide and glowing with happiness.

Because it was so good to be with her friends, laughing and joking and enjoying one another's company.

And maybe, just maybe there'd be more of this - _this_ in the future, with four rather than three.

And she took comfort in that as much as Sans did in his jacket.

* * *

 **END**

 **(A/N: Oh my gosh I am so unhappy with this but whatever. I tried. Hope someone likes it. It's just all over the place, jeegus.)**


End file.
